Chapter 4: The Officer Who Knew My Name
The sirens grew louder, but Richard didn't look frightened.
He looked relieved.
That frightened me more than the gun had.
My uncle David stood between us, one hand pressed against his bruised ribs, while I clutched my mother's letter beneath my jacket. Somewhere behind the chapel doors, guests were shouting for help. My mother was still inside the shattered coffin, fighting to breathe.
And my stepfather was smiling.
"Move away from the boy, Richard," David said.
Richard straightened his torn jacket.
"You're making a terrible mistake, David.""
"You put my sister in a coffin.""
"Your sister put herself here.""
David's face twisted with anger.
"You expect me to believe she climbed into that box herself?""
Richard shrugged.
"I expect you to understand that you know nothing about our marriage.""
The first police cruiser pulled into the funeral home's parking lot. Blue and red lights flashed against the rain-soaked windows.
I ran toward the entrance, desperate to reach someone who might help.
Richard didn't stop me.
That was the first thing that should have warned me.
I burst through the doors and nearly collided with two uniformed officers entering the building. The taller one had a thick mustache and a nameplate that read OFFICER HARRIS. The second officer was younger, with dark hair and a hand resting near his belt.
"Officer!"" I shouted.
"Please, you have to help us!""
Harris looked down at me.
"What's going on, son?""
"My stepfather has a gun! He put my mother in a coffin, but she's alive! She's inside!""
The younger officer exchanged a glance with Harris.
Then Harris smiled.
It was a small smile, the kind adults used when they thought a child was being dramatic.
"All right, take a breath. Where's your father?""
"My stepfather. He's in the hallway.""
"Good. We'll speak with him.""
"No!"" I grabbed Harris's sleeve.
"You don't understand. He's going to hurt her again!""
Harris gently removed my hand.
"Nobody's going to hurt anybody.""
Behind him, Richard appeared in the doorway.
His entire expression had changed.
His shoulders slumped. His eyes reddened. He even rubbed a hand across his face as though trying to hold back tears.
"Officer Harris," he said.
"Thank God you're here.""
Harris turned toward him.
"Mr. Hale.""
They knew each other.
Not in the way strangers recognized someone from a photograph. Harris greeted Richard with the familiarity of someone who had spoken to him many times before.
Richard approached slowly.
"My wife's death has been very difficult for my son," he explained.
"He's been struggling to accept it.""
"He's lying!"" I shouted.
Richard lowered his head.
"I know, Ethan. I know you're hurting.""
He reached toward me.
I stepped back.
"Don't touch me!""
Harris frowned at me.
"Son, you need to calm down.""
"He has a gun!""
The younger officer finally drew his weapon.
"Sir, do you have a firearm on your person?""
Richard looked offended.
"Of course not.""
I stared at him.
The gun was beneath the cabinet near the chapel, unless he had managed to retrieve it.
"He shot at us!"" I insisted.
"Ask everyone inside!""
Harris glanced toward the younger officer.
"Go check the chapel.""
The officer disappeared through the doors.
Harris turned back to Richard.
"Mr. Hale, can you explain what happened?""
Richard sighed.
"Certainly. My wife died unexpectedly, and this morning, my son had a breakdown during the service. He attacked the coffin with a hammer.""
"Because she's alive!"" I screamed.
Richard closed his eyes.
"I think he needs professional help.""
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to scream until somebody finally understood.
Instead, I remembered my mother's letter.
Someone inside the police department has been warning him whenever I ask for help.
I looked at Harris's face.
The way he spoke to Richard. The way he hadn't even asked to see the gun. The way he treated my mother's supposed death as a settled fact.
My fingers tightened around the envelope beneath my jacket.
"Harris," Richard said quietly, "could I speak to you privately?""
The officer nodded.
They moved several feet away, but I followed them, staying close enough to hear.
Richard lowered his voice.
"Did Whitmore get there yet?""
Harris's expression hardened.
"Not yet. He's coming.""
"What about the other officer?""
"He's handling the witnesses.""
Richard glanced at me.
"And the boy?""
Harris looked directly at me.
"He's not a problem.""
My stomach turned.
They hadn't noticed that I could hear them.
Or they didn't care.
I backed away slowly, then turned and ran.
"Ethan!"" Richard shouted.
I didn't stop.
I rushed through the chapel doors, past the shattered coffin, and toward my mother.
David was kneeling beside her. A woman was holding a blanket around her shoulders while another guest pressed a damp cloth against her forehead.
"Mom!""
Claire turned her head.
Her face was pale, and her lips trembled, but she was awake.
"Ethan," she whispered.
I fell beside her and wrapped my arms around her carefully.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.""
She pulled me close with what little strength she had.
"You saved me," she murmured.
"You hear me? You saved me.""
I buried my face against her shoulder.
For a few seconds, the entire world disappeared.
Then David grabbed my arm.
"Ethan, listen to me. We have to get your mother out of here.""
"Where can we go?""
"Somewhere Richard can't reach us.""
My mother caught my hand.
"No hospital," she whispered.
David frowned.
"Claire, you need medical attention.""
"I know."" She struggled to sit up, then winced.
"But not the hospital Richard chose.""
"What does that mean?"" I asked.
She looked at me, and I saw the same fear I'd seen in her eyes through the broken coffin lid.
"Before he took me, he told me that every hospital in the county had received instructions not to question his authority.""
David went pale.
"That's impossible.""
"That's what I thought.""
She gripped my wrist.
"He has friends in places we never suspected.""
A shout came from the hallway.
"Clear the room!""
Harris entered the chapel, followed by the younger officer.
His gaze moved from the broken coffin to my mother.
For the first time, he looked genuinely irritated.
"Mrs. Hale," he said.
"I'm Officer Harris. We're going to take you somewhere safe.""
My mother stiffened.
"No.""
"Ma'am, you're in no condition to make that decision.""
"I said no.""
Harris glanced at David.
"You're her brother?""
"Yes.""
"Then perhaps you can help her understand that we're trying to protect her.""
David rose to his feet.
"Protect her from whom? The man who put her in a coffin?""
Harris's voice became colder.
"Mr. Bennett, step aside.""
"No.""
The younger officer moved closer.
Harris sighed as though dealing with an inconvenience.
"Fine. We'll do this the difficult way.""
He reached for my mother's arm.
I threw myself between them.
"Don't touch her!""
Harris grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me backward.
I hit the edge of a chair.
My mother screamed.
"Leave my son alone!""
Harris turned toward her.
"Mrs. Hale, your son is interfering with a lawful investigation.""
"Lawful?"" she whispered.
"Is that what you call it?""
She looked at him with sudden recognition.
"You were there, weren't you?""
Harris froze.
My mother swallowed painfully.
"At the warehouse. The night Richard brought the black suitcase.""
David turned toward her.
"What warehouse?""
Harris's hand moved toward his belt.
"That's enough.""
My mother didn't stop.
"You told Richard the cameras had been disabled. You told him nobody would come looking for me.""
The room fell silent.
Harris stared at her.
Then he reached for his radio.
"Dispatch, we have an unstable female requiring immediate transfer. Prepare the vehicle.""
"No!"" David shouted.
He lunged toward Harris, but the younger officer tackled him to the floor.
I screamed as David struggled beneath him.
Harris grabbed my mother by the arm.
She cried out in pain.
I seized his sleeve and pulled with all my strength.
He struck me across the face.
My head snapped sideways.
The chapel spun.
My mother screamed my name.
And then a voice boomed from the entrance.
"EVERYONE PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!""
A second group of officers rushed into the room.
Their uniforms were different. Their weapons were raised. At their head stood a tall woman with short gray hair and a badge clipped to her belt.
"State police!"" she shouted.
"Nobody moves!""
Harris released my mother.
For the first time, Richard appeared in the doorway with an expression I recognized.
Fear.
The woman approached slowly.
"I'm Captain Elena Brooks," she announced.
"We received an emergency call from a witness inside this building.""
Her gaze settled on the broken coffin.
Then on my mother.
Then on me.
"Who's the boy?""
I stepped forward, holding the envelope.
"My name is Ethan Parker.""
Captain Brooks crouched in front of me.
"All right, Ethan. Tell me what happened.""
I opened my mouth.
Before I could speak, Harris shouted, "Captain, this child is confused. The situation is under control.""
Brooks didn't even look at him.
"I wasn't speaking to you, Officer Harris.""
She turned back to me.
I took a breath.
"My stepfather tried to bury my mother alive. He had help. The first officer who arrived knew him.""
Brooks's expression remained calm, but her eyes sharpened.
"Do you have evidence?""
I pulled out my mother's letter.
"She left this for me.""
Brooks accepted it carefully.
She read the first page.
Then the second.
When she reached the final paragraph, her jaw tightened.
"Who is Dr. Samuel Whitmore?"" she asked.
My mother answered from the coffin.
"The man who signed my death certificate.""
Brooks looked toward the hallway.
"Where is Dr. Whitmore now?""
Before anyone could answer, a man's voice came from behind the officers.
"Right here, Captain.""
A tall man in a dark overcoat stepped through the entrance, carrying a leather medical bag.
He wore a friendly smile.
I recognized his name from my mother's letter.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore.
He looked at the shattered coffin, then at my mother.
His smile disappeared.
"Well," he said quietly.
May you like
"This is going to complicate things.""
And then he reached into his medical bag.
